


The Rules of the Game

by mariposaroja



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Rey's life is a mess, coffee shop AU, it's a cliché but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 07:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13243680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariposaroja/pseuds/mariposaroja
Summary: “It’s that time of the day again…” Poe grins as he swaggers up to Rey, that god-damned jar in his hands, and she can’t help but groan. One of these days she’s going to smash that thing, or take it and hide it somewhere Poe Dameron will never find it. Ever. Again.“You have got to be kidding me.”Positively jubilant, Poe peers over her shoulder, letting out a whistle when he sees what she’s got today. “Good one! Not impossible, not completely easy either.”'You have a nice smile.'





	The Rules of the Game

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one shot that I got a brainwave to write yesterday, hope you enjoy!

“It’s that time of the day again…” Poe grins as he swaggers up to Rey, that god-damned jar in his hands, and she can’t help but groan. One of these days she’s going to smash that thing, or take it and hide it somewhere Poe Dameron will never find it. Ever. Again.

“I really hate whoever’s idea this was…” She complains, just as she has done every day since she’d started working at the coffee shop, which seemed like far too long ago. But, just as every other one of those days, she sticks her hand into the jar and plucks out a haphazardly folded scrap of refill paper, one eye closed as she slowly unfolds it. It’s even worse than she feared.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Positively jubilant, Poe peers over her shoulder, letting out a whistle when he sees what she’s got today. “Good one! Not impossible, not completely easy either.”

All Rey can do is walk away, because if she doesn’t there is a very high chance that she might hit him over the head with that stupid jar. Flicking on all the switches to get the machine going, she leans up against the counter as it churns to life, reading the little slip over and over again.

_‘You have a nice smile’_

To add insult to injury, there’s a passive aggressive, crudely drawn smiley face tagged onto the end and, huffing, Rey scrunches it into a ball and fires it into the bin. Looks like she’s in for another late night then. Poe, with his ability to say anything and make you believe it was the most enlightening thing anyone’s ever said in the history of the world, almost invariably wins- or rather, doesn’t _lose_. That honour usually went to Rey, sometimes Finn…

It’s absurd. Whoever thought of having a phrase of the day, picked at random by each of them every morning, that they have to somehow shoehorn into conversation with a customer, the loser having to close up at night, is certainly no friend of hers. For someone like Rey, who is rather personable but nowhere near as confident as Poe, or even Finn, this game of theirs is hell on earth. She can’t count the amount of times she’s threatened to quit but never quite followed through with it, needing the job but also knowing that- apart from that one little thing- it was a decent place to work.

“What did you get today?” Finn asks as he ties his apron around his waist, still bleary eyed as someone who doesn’t really come to life until after 10 at the earliest.

“ _You have a nice smile”_ She puts on her best fake smile, adding a very exaggerated American accent for dramatic effect before it drops and her pout returns, turning into a full-blown grimace when he laughs.

“Not too bad. Could be worse.”

“Really? What did you get?”

“Mariachi band.”

“Mari-“ And for the first time that morning, Rey actually laughs, a full blown, hysterical laugh that almost has her bending over and clutching her stomach, “Okay, I feel a little bit better now. Just try fit _mariachi band_ into an every day conversation, I dare you.” Shaking her head to herself, she makes in the direction of the storeroom to grab some more filters, safe in the knowledge that at least she won’t be closing up by herself tonight.

Then again…

It’s pushing on two o’clock, generally their busiest time of the day as students take their afternoon break from the University down the street, and Rey has- as expected- thus far failed miserably in complimenting anyone’s smile. Mainly because, frankly, everyone looks fucking miserable but also because it feels too much like flirting, and she has zero interest in flirting with any of her customers. After all, they know where she works.

Just putting the finishing touches on a cappuccino to go, Rey overhears an interaction between Finn and a patron that almost makes her knock it over.

“Regular white chocolate mocha?”

“Actually, I’m the double shot caramel latte.”

“Oops!” Rey glances over just in time to see him swap it with another identical cup on the counter, fixing her with a subtle wink, “Sorry about that, it feels like I have a mariachi band in my head today. Have a nice day and enjoy!”

Internally, Rey is screaming.

 

_8:25…_

The clock seems to be taunting her, somehow going unreasonably fast but also excruciatingly slow at the same time. At this point, she’s accepted her fate. It’s going to be another 9:30 finish for her, just like yesterday and the day before and the day before…

It’s her own fault really. Maybe if she had more of an imagination she might be able to match Finn and Poe’s ability to drop almost anything into conversation. But it isn’t fair, those two are unnaturally good at this game, and had been since before she even started working there. Rey keeps hoping she’ll catch up but, thus far, it’s not looking good.

The place is completely deserted, and she walks around for what feels like the fiftieth time in the last half hour, fixing all the sugar sachets and petite milk jugs on the tables (they’re already straight), making sure all the chairs are pushed in and the floor clear of any hazards. Once that is all done, she looks back up at the clock.

_8:27._

“Oh come on!” Throwing her head back, she looks up to the ceiling, hoping that whatever powers that be there are will take pity on her, “This is not fair!” They’re closing at nine and, usually, they’re lucky if a soul darkens their door after eight o’ clock, everyone long gone home for the evening. Finn and Poe are practically already packed up, ready to get out of there the minute the clock strikes nine. The traitors.

“Be careful what you wish for…” the latter chuckles, and, frowning, Rey looks around to see to what he might be referring. It doesn’t take her long to find out: there’s a customer at the door, just about to come in, but it is the _last_ person Rey wants to see at a time like this.

 _For fuck sake._ “Not what I meant,” she hisses, eyes squeezed tightly shut as the bell dings, signalling the opening of the door.

Poe can’t even consider himself disappointed that a final chance for Rey to redeem herself has materialised, mainly because he’ll eat his hat if she actually compliments _this_ customer’s smile and, even if she does, witnessing such an historic moment would more than make up for having to stay behind an extra half hour. A thousand times over.

“You’re up, Rey!” he helpfully calls, meeting eyes with their _valued_ customer, “Finn and I have to move some crates for tomorrow…”

That’s it; she’s handing in her notice tomorrow. Nodding meekly, she makes her way to the register as the terrible twosome disappear, no doubt lingering _just_ out of sight. “Hi,” it’s a miracle she doesn’t stutter (or blush tomato red) as she looks straight into the face of Luke Skywalker, a former professor of Poe’s when he took some aeronautical science classes last year. Fascinated by the subject matter, Rey would often discreetly tag along, taking it all in without the pressure of really having to perform. But Professor Skywalker is a genius, and with the experience of serving as a General in the Air Force to boot. (Poe always maintains that she has a crush on him, she definitely doesn’t.) “What can I get you?”

“Can I get a very large flat white to go please. And a blueberry muffin if you have any left?”

It’s just a regular order, she can do this. “We don’t have any blueberry left but we do have some cranberry, if you’d like one of those instead?”

“Sure,” he smiles, and if Rey’s heart doesn’t flutter just a _little_ bit… (Okay, maybe she does have a bit of a crush) “Cranberry sounds good. My sister would kill me if she saw how I’m living off coffee and baked goods these days, but I have an article that is due tomorrow and eating is not a luxury I can afford at the moment.”

Chuckling as she began preparing the beans, Rey arches an eyebrow. “Professors have deadlines too, who knew?”

“Certainly not I when I signed up for this, I’ll tell you that much,” flipping his card between his fingers, he cocks his head slightly as he observes her, “You look familiar, but I know you weren’t one of my students…”

If her cheeks weren’t red before, they certainly are now and she’s grateful for the distraction of grabbing a cup and frothing the milk. “I wasn’t but I did attend a couple of your lectures with Poe. That’s probably where you know me from, outside of here of course.”

“Really? I’m not sure how someone would willingly subject themselves to my classes without being in the course. You must be a saint.”

“Nope,” she bites her lip, chastising herself when she realises how _Dameron_ that is, “Just interested in what you have to say. I haven’t quite worked out what I want to do with my life yet but I’ve always wanted to get my pilot’s licence.”

Rey tries not to be offended by how genuinely surprised he looks and he must notice because he seems to anxiously brush his hair back off his forehead. “Sorry, I didn’t- it’s just it’s not often I come across people who have a genuine interesting in piloting, outside of my lectures, of course. You definitely should, if it’s something you’ve always wanted to do.”

“Yeah, I think I might.” Nothing more is said between the two of them as she finishes up his drink and bags the nicest looking cranberry muffin for him. Handing it over, Rey is still resigned to her 9.30 finish when something very unexpected happens…

“You have a nice smile.” It spills out of her mouth before she even knows what’s happening and by then it’s far too late to shove it back in. Paralysed with fear as she waits for the fallout, Rey wants nothing more than to be struck by lightening right there and then. Or hit by a randomly falling object. Or abducted by aliens… She’s not really fussy.

The compliment surprises him just as much as it does her, naturally, and she would swear he actually blushes. “Er, thank you…?”

“Uh, Rey. I’m Rey.” Dear god, please just make it stop.

“Rey,” he nods, smile still firmly in place as he taps his card, “I’m Luke. Thanks for the coffee and thanks for the compliment too."

 _Please, PLEASE don’t mention it._ “You’re welcome.”

For a moment, it looks as if he’s going to say something else but obviously thinks better of it, for which she is eternally grateful, and merely gives her a little wave before heading for the door. As soon as the bell dings, signalling his departure, Finn and Poe suddenly appear out of nowhere, looking equally as shocked as Rey feels.

If Luke were to look back at that moment, he would have seen the two men comforting their colleague, each with a tender hand on her shoulder as she hides her face in her hands.

(He definitely does.)

For the first time in what feels like weeks, Rey leaves the café before both Finn and Poe.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
